


hardest to love (like fools)

by whatsdunisdun



Series: win this fight, beat this storm [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: (i love them), (lots of it sorry), :), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crying, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Unrequited Love, a bit anyway, and auston matthews having the emotional intelligence of a puck, because its only from mitch's pov, featuring:, happy ending!, kind of, mitch is sad gay and dumb but auston is sad gay and DUMBER, mitch marner using talk of mike babcock to avoid discussing his feelings, my first rpf work!, rated t for copious use of swear words, song inspired fic, which appears as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 11:13:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17385416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsdunisdun/pseuds/whatsdunisdun
Summary: So no, Auston’s never been an asshole about Mitch’s obvious infatuation. It’s possibly far worse; Mitch fears he’s never cared enough to notice it in the first place.





	hardest to love (like fools)

**Author's Note:**

> This one’s for Bella, because she’d kill me if the first RPF fic I ever posted was the Royalty!Au willy/hymie shit sitting in my drafts folder right now (and also because she was cheerleading for this in her own special judgy way. Thank you Bells! I hope you don't hate it!)
> 
> Title and quotes in the text are from Fools by Lauren Aquilina, which Bells introduced me to, and is an incredibly appropriate Mitch/Auston song.
> 
> I made very little effort to make the season realistic, but it’s roughly set this season (18-19) in the middle of December. Also, I’ve never actually been to Toronto, so the parts about the weather etc obviously might not be super realistic, but I did my best.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: This makes no attempt to bear resemblance to the real people it is about; it is a work of fiction. If you or anyone you know are mentioned in the tags above, please turn back now.

* * *

_‘those hardest to love need it most_

_I watched our bodies turn to ghosts_

_such great friends, it has to end, it always does_

_that’s the way life is_

_do we take that risk?’_

* * *

  

Winter always settles into Toronto in the blink of an eye; the last orange leaves fall off the trees lining the roads, and the next time you look, there’s a foot of snow on every inch of ground in the city. It’s not that Mitch isn’t used to it, per say, because he’s lived here his whole life, couldn’t be more familiar with the climate and its erratic nature. But something about this year, about the way his life is now, has him scrambling for an answer when he wakes up to a city blanketed in snow. Maybe the season has distracted him, or maybe his life feels like a different one than when he was a kid, but he wasn’t ready for it to be winter yet, and now he doesn’t know what to do.

 

He plays a winter sport, he thinks as he drags himself out of bed on a Tuesday, he shouldn’t be used to anything other than _cold;_ snow, falling through the sky, coating trees, or ice, under his skates, spraying up as he swerves to a stop. _Auston Matthew’s heart,_ he thinks, and snorts to himself while he brushes his teeth.

 

That’s not quite fair, Mitch knows, but sue him, maybe he’s sick of how things are between them. Maybe he’s sick of his love life being the funniest joke on their team since Gards tried to grow a playoff beard.

 

They’d all gone out last night, crowding into a booth in their favourite bar with grins on their faces from the 6-1 win against the Panthers. Mitch had gone ahead and stuck to his usual outing routine: drink less then everyone thinks he’s drinking, then act more drunk than he is, and cuddle up to Auston far more than allowed by the lens of anything resembling sobriety. He thinks Hymie’s the only one who’s caught on to the whole shtick, and Zach’s way too gone on Willy to be able to chirp Mitch about it anyway.  

 

Even without those specifics, Mitch thinks bitterly as he pulls stuff for omelettes out of the kitchen cupboards, most of the team is perfectly aware about Mitch’s – pining, apparently. He and Auston have been playing together for more than two years, and they’ve been best friends for the same amount of time. Mitch probably first started to fall for Auston around the time of their first practice together, when Auston broke the pane of glass off Mitch’s pass and Mitch thought _we’re gonna be great together,_ because Mitch’s life is an agonizing series of the worst clichés in the world.

 

Falling in love with Auston Matthews, Mitch thinks as he sits down at his kitchen table alone, was just like winter in Toronto: he always knew it was coming, knew when it would arrive, but when he woke up and it was suddenly there he felt shocked anyway.

 

Mitch stares sullenly at the omelettes on his plate, picks up his knife and fork and puts them back down just for something to do.

 

The problem isn’t that Auston is an asshole about it, necessarily. The problem is mostly that everyone in Toronto and their dog can tell how Mitch feels, but Auston’s never made any indication of what he thinks of it. Never called Mitch out when he stares, never plied Mitch off when he cuddles, never even joined in the chirping about Mitch’s failed love life the rest of the team so loves. If Mitch didn’t know from experience that Auston has the emotional intelligence of a puck, Mitch would have assumed years ago that this was Auston’s way of letting him down gently.

 

As it is, Mitch still mostly believes that theory. There’s part of him, though, that sometimes questions it.

 

Like last night, when Auston hadn’t had a sip of alcohol all night, but had cuddled Mitch back almost as aggressively, had looked at Mitch every now and again with the kind of light in his eyes the cliché white bitch inside Mitch’s brain wanted to link to love sonnets.

 

 _Wishful thinking,_ Mitch thinks as he washes the dishes, _would be the title of the Mitch Marner biopic for sure._  

 

So no, Auston’s never been an asshole about Mitch’s obvious infatuation. It’s possibly far worse; Mitch fears he’s never cared enough to notice it in the first place.

 

* * *

  _‘friends, I watched us as we changed_

_the feelings in my headspace rearranged_

_i want you more than I’ve wanted anyone_

_isn’t that dangerous?’_  

* * *

 

When Mitch pulls up outside Auston’s place, knowing it’s going to be about 5 minutes before Auston actually makes it out to the car, he’s barely resisting the urge to lean his head on the steering wheel and sound the horn to match his internal screams.

 

Mitch loves hockey, is the thing. Always has, always will. When he was a kid, he used to be disgusted at the idea of him ever loving anything (or any _one_ ) more. Now, he stands by that – hockey is his forever and always love. But there are some days, when he watches Auston nonchalantly score highlight reel goals, or sits down next to Auston and watches the sun make his hair glow, or listens to Auston’s ugly laugh while Mitch smashes him at Call of Duty, and he thinks: _yeah._ Thinks: _maybe this is what they were always talking about._ It’s not that he loves Auston more than hockey, per say, because Auston _is_ hockey. But maybe he loves hockey a little more when it involves Auston, and loving it _more_ had never seemed like a possibility before.

 

And it’s exhilarating, right, to play with someone that amazing, to spend time with someone that amazing, but it’s also exhausting. Falling in love with your best friend is the oldest cliché in the book, but it can be scary as fuck, no matter how many people have survived it.

 

Even if Mitch thought that Auston might feel the same way (and he _doesn’t_ think that, okay, it’s just that sometimes –), it’s so hard to know what would happen if he tried to talk to Auston about it. There’s so many risks involved – if Auston doesn’t feel the same way, or if he does but they just don’t work together as a couple, or if they screw up team dynamics by dating, or if they have a messy break up and it ends up bad enough for a trade or something – and sometimes Mitch thinks that just getting to be friends should be enough for him.

 

But Mitch really does just love Auston so much, as his best friend and as so much more, and sometimes he thinks Auston has no idea about it, even on a platonic level. Like, Auston’s always joking about how much love Mitch gives all his friends, how free he is with his affection, and Mitch worries; that Auston thinks of himself as nothing special, that Auston doesn’t realise that he’s worth all the love Mitch has to give. It hurts Mitch so badly to imagine Auston not knowing that Mitch loves him. He just – he wants Auston to feel loved, okay, that’s what it comes down to. He wants Auston to know how _good_ he is, how many people would do anything for him; he knows Auston ignores all the evidence, like when Mo and Gards put him in affectionate headlocks, or when Hymie and Willy scream praise in the locker room. Mitch thinks he’d probably put it all on the line, tell Auston everything, if he knew it would stop him from looking sadly at other people’s obvious shared affection when he thinks no one’s looking.

 

Mitch hates the idea that Auston could feel like nobody really loves him, could so casually act like it doesn’t bother him, and there’s nothing Mitch can imagine that would ever be worse than Auston feeling like that because Mitch –

 

The door to the car opens.

 

Mitch hastily wipes at his eyes. _Shit._ He hasn’t been crying. He _hasn’t_.

 

Auston slides into the door and slumps into the passenger seat, still half asleep. Mitch passes him his coffee, which he made at home and brought in a travel mug, like he does every morning, and thinks _you dense fool, how could you ever think nobody loves you when this is right under your nose._

At this point, Auston looks up to smile weakly at Mitch in thanks, but the smile freezes on his face when he makes eye contact. Before Mitch can even get concerned, Auston’s speaking, his voice cracking with disuse.

 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, probably because Mitch has always been shit at hiding his emotions.

 

For lack of anything better to do, Mitch wipes his face on the sleeves of his sweater again.

 

“Nah man,” he says, pausing to clear his throat, “nothin’. You ready to go to practice? Think Babs’ll be in a good mood after last night?”

 

Nothing in Mitch’s voice says ‘chill’ or ‘light-hearted’, which seems a little bit unfair, considering how many times Mitch has been told he doesn’t take things seriously enough. This feels like a very unfortunate turn of events.

 

Auston’s face doesn’t change, concern seeping out of every pore. He puts his hand out and grabs onto Mitch’s wrist, and Mitch does his best not to shudder.

 

“Marns, Dude. Come on. What’s going on? What happened?”

 

Mitch shakes his head. He wants to hit something, wants to cry, wants to kiss Auston. So badly. He does none of the above, instead opting for clenching his hands into fists and trying to breathe.

 

“I can’t – I can’t do this, Matts, not today. Let’s just – go to practice, and pretend this never happened, okay? You’re great at doing that. Pretending I don’t do the shit I do.”

 

Auston breathes in sharply, and when Mitch looks back at him, his eyebrows are scrunched in confusion. Mitch has gotten so, so good at silencing the voice that only ever talks about wanting to kiss Auston, but it takes some effort not to let the thought form.

 

Mitch moves to start the engine of the car, and Auston’s hand, which had fallen off Mitch’s wrist and had been resting between them, darts out and grabs Mitch’s own hand.

 

“Marns. Mitch. Come on. Talk to me, bud. I don’t know what that means, but you can’t just – bottle that shit up.”

 

Mitch moves his hand away from the controls of the car, and rests them in his lap, clenching his eyes shut and trying not to cry again. He doesn’t want to fucking do this, why can’t Auston understand that?

 

Mitch doesn’t know, honestly, if Auston has always known about Mitch’s pining bullshit and ignored it, or really didn’t notice it. He doesn’t even know, for sure, that Auston doesn’t feel the same way, but even that doesn’t feel like a chance, right now. It feels like a burden.

 

He doesn’t know the rules of this game, doesn’t know what to put on the line and how to walk away from any of this with his heart intact. He doesn’t know what Auston’s willing to risk, no matter how he feels, what Auston’s going to choose if everything else goes well.

 

Mitch doesn’t know what he’s going to do if he loses this: Auston, sleepy, in Mitch’s car on the way to practice; Auston, earnest and caring, even when he doesn’t know how to understand basic emotions; Auston, his best friend, his _everything_.

 

“I’m sorry,” Mitch says, but it comes out more like a whisper.

 

Auston squeezes his hand, says “ _Mitch_ ,” back, also a whisper. The resulting quiet in the car feels like a physical presence. Mitch swallows, finally opens his eyes, and turns to Auston.

 

“I don’t know what to say, Aus. I don’t know what you want me to tell you here.”

 

“You’re _crying_ , Mitch, just tell me what’s wrong! Tell me what I can do to help. Please.”

 

“You can’t do more than what you’ve already done.”

 

Mitch doesn’t even realise how that sounds until after he’s said it, but he doesn’t bother taking the words back. He doesn’t blame Auston, isn’t mad at him, but he’s still sick of feeling like this, and it makes him angry.

 

Auston pulls his hand away, puts both his hands in his lap and stares intently down at them. It’s quiet for a while before Auston speaks.

 

“I want to apologise, but I don’t understand what I did. If I fucked up, man, you gotta tell me. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I wouldn’t ever.”

 

“Nah, I’m sorry. I’m not like, mad at you, or whatever. I just – I mean, come on man, you know, right? You’ve gotta know. I couldn’t be more obvious about it if I tried.”

 

Mitch can’t even look at Auston, doesn’t want to see the look on his face when he’s finally forced to let Mitch down gently or whatever. There’s a quiet hum under Mitch’s skin of _but what if-_ but he ignores it. Seems like a waste of time to him.

 

“I – Mitch, know what? I don’t … I really don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m sorry.”

 

Mitch curses silently. Auston’s really gonna make him say it? After everything?

 

Part of Mitch is saying _don’t tell him, don’t do it, just pretend everything’s okay and move the conversation on, that way you can keep him as a friend._ But Mitch is tired, alright? He’s fucking _tired._

 

“Know that I’m like –” Mitch breathes in, thinks about how this might be his last time with Auston sitting next to him like everything’s okay, and continues, “y’know, in love with you, or whatever.”

 

The car is completely silent. The analogy about a pin dropping has always seemed dumb to Mitch, but it seems kind of real right now. He feels unsettled; silence and Mitch Marner have never gotten on well together.

 

When the silence continues, Mitch chances a look up at Auston’s face, to see if he should get out and start walking to practice. When he looks though, he sees nothing. There’s absolutely nothing to read on Auston’s face; he looks frozen, unmoving, and completely emotionless.

 

Mitch fidgets with his hands, and starts rambling a little bit, because that probably didn’t make sense anyway, did it? Like, great, you’re in love, but why the fuck are you crying in a car in a rural street in Toronto at 9am on a Tuesday?

 

“I just – y’know, I’m fine, I was just thinking about how – maybe you didn’t know? How much I love you? And it worries me, man, that maybe you don’t have any idea just how much me and, y’know, so many other people love you. Like, you’re so important, Aus, you’re so _good_ , and I just –” fuck, he’s crying again, “I don’t want you to ever think you’re not, okay? You deserve everything, man.”

 

Well. That’s decidedly not buddies.

 

Mitch looks back up at Auston. He’s staring at Mitch, and there are tears on Auston’s cheeks, falling from his eyes, and Mitch thinks _fuck, not you too._ He wants to laugh. Like, Christ, how could this have ever gone well?

 

He doesn’t know what to say, so he settles for apologising again, and waits to see if Auston’s gonna yell at him, or get out of the car, or – anything, anything other than sitting there in tears like Mitch just broke his heart and not the other way around.

 

Auston abruptly moves a hand, probably just to wipe tears off his face, but for some reason, Mitch flinches away with his whole body. Auston makes a sound in the back of his throat and the look on his face changes from empty to absolutely devastated. Mitch wants to apologise _again,_ but then they’d just be going in circles, and nothing sounds worse than that.

 

“Marns,” Auston says, almost whispers, “Marns. Mitch. I’m – Jesus, Mitch.”

 

Mitch almost wants to laugh, make a crack about _yes, Auston, clearly you are Jesus,_ but he thinks that’s what Auston expects, and he’s sick of everything in his life being a joke because Mitch is supposed to be the funny one.

 

Mitch looks back to the steering wheel, and says, “Let’s just get to practice, eh? We don’t have to talk about this again, you know now anyway. Don’t wanna be late, Babs’ll kill us.”

  
  
They’re not, Mitch knows, at any risk of being late. They’re used to getting there an hour before practice, so they’ve got another 20 minutes or so before they really have to leave Auston’s driveway, but Mitch is itching to just get out of this car as soon as he can. So it didn’t go well, he thinks. Well, it could have gone far, far worse.

 

But Mitch realises that Auston is shaking his head, aggressive enough to be noticeable out of the corner of his eye. He turns to Auston, what he hopes is a questioning expression on his face, and waits.

 

“I – Mitch, you – you really mean it?”

 

“That we’ll be late? Not really, bud, but, y’know,” but Auston’s shaking his head again, so Mitch stops, and okay, now Mitch is _really_ confused.

 

“No,” Auston says, like it pains him, “I mean – you really… love me?”

 

Oh, Mitch thinks. Oh.

 

“I – yeah, man, I thought you at least partially figured? Like, c’mon, why do you think the guys are always chirping me about my disastrous love life, and my unrequited pining?”

 

“You – you’ve been pining for – me?”

 

Mitch has honestly never heard Auston be this bad at stringing a few words together. He doesn’t even look confused, though, which throws Mitch off, because why else would Auston struggle with this? Mitch has been out as bi to Auston for ages, and it’s always been chill, so he doesn’t think that’s the problem here.

 

Mitch nods, doesn’t know what else to say. Auston looks even more pained.

 

“I – _Mitchy,_ Mitch, I - I love you, I love you so much, I never thought – but you, you really mean it? You really love me too?”

 

Mitch is just. Speechless.

 

“What?” he asks, or at least he thinks he does, because he has no idea what’s even happening anymore.

 

“I – I mean, yeah,” Auston’s saying, “I’ve basically been like – hardcore crushing on you since, like, that first practice together? And like, I dunno, that stopped being a crush miles back, and like, come on, man, how could I not be in love with you? When you’re all – you?”

 

Mitch literally has no fucking clue what to make of that, but then Auston’s words catch up to him, and _that first practice together,_ Auston said, which, isn’t that _exactly_ what Mitch always said?

 

His life, Mitch decides then and there, is the biggest fucking cliché in the world. Why not just go with it?

 

Because he has no idea what else to do, Mitch leans in, slow enough to give Auston plenty of time to back away, and kisses Auston. When their lips meet, Mitch doesn’t think of fireworks going off, or anything remotely similar, because he’s had enough clichés for the rest of his life. But the kiss is, both objectively and subjectively, incredible. Like, fall-in-love-all-over-again good, stay-here-forever-and-practice-be-damned good. Obviously, they can’t do that, because Auston would kill Mitch, but the point stands. It’s fucking good.

 

When they pull away, Auston’s still crying, but he’s grinning now, so Mitch just quietly wipes the tears off his face and rests his hand there, on Auston’s cheek, like he has no intentions of ever moving it. Auston looks up at him, and his smile is so wide Mitch thinks maybe they’ve reversed positions, here, because he’s pretty sure that having a smile bigger than you face is _his_ job.

 

“Mitchy,” Auston says, reverently, “Mitch, I had no idea. I had no _clue._ Why did you never say anything? Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

Mitch laughs. He’d been scared shitless, he doesn’t say, because he thinks Auston probably understands. Besides, that fear feels like nothing, now, in the face of the raw opportunity lying in front of him. What was the point, again, of being scared? Auston loves him. Auston _loves_ _him_. Nothing else could possibly matter when Auston Matthews loves him.

 

Well, maybe some things are still important. Like hockey. And getting to practice on time. And maybe figuring out what the fuck he and Auston are doing.

 

Mitch grabs Auston’s hand, and Auston squeezes Mitch’s hand, and Mitch squeezes back.

 

Mitch turns to Auston, considering asking what they’re doing, where Auston wants this to go, what happens if – but Auston must know that’s what he’s going to ask, because he smiles at Mitch and opens his mouth.

 

“It’s gonna be fine, Mitchy. We’re gonna be fine. We’ll work it out, there’s no rush, we’ll figure out the best way to do this. I just. I love you. Nothing else matters right now, right?”

 

Yeah, they clearly share a brain. Cliché #3782, Mitch doesn’t think, because he’s too busy being thrilled when Auston lifts Mitch’s hand up and kisses his knuckles.

 

Mitch starts the car, finally, and leans over to peck Auston on the lips one more time, because he can just _do that_ now, which is cool. He starts reversing down the driveway, and he catches Auston’s eye as he turns to check behind them, and they share a grin that’s so sickeningly sweet Mitch is almost shocked, despite himself.

 

God, the guys are going to chirp the shit out of them _forever._

Mitch can’t wait.

 

* * *

‘ _what if we ruin it all, and we love like fools?_

_and all we have we lose?_

_and I don’t want you to go but I want you so_

_so tell me what_

_we choose.’_  

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in a matter of hours while running on very little sleep, so please, for the love of god, tell me if you catch any mistakes or have any feedback. Otherwise, let me know what you thought! Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated <3 
> 
> If you want to hear me yell about writers block, cry over dylan strome, be mad about mo not getting the last men in spot, or just generally chat about shit, come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://anybodyhavealaurens.tumblr.com) !


End file.
